


Five Thank-Yous from Ander

by femmeak221



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Bad Cooking, Bonding over hair products, Boys In Love, Childhood Friends, Cute, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Friendship, Hair care, Kissing, Light-Hearted, Mentions of Cancer, Mother-Son Relationship, Omander - Freeform, Post-Season/Series 03, Quiet, Recovery, Sunsets, Supportive Omar, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26975098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmeak221/pseuds/femmeak221
Summary: Ander takes the opportunity to express gratitude to the people in his life who helped him through his illness.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	1. I. Azucena

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of drabbles that can each be read as its own little stand-alone story

“Careful, the oven will still be hot, _querido_!” Azucena called out.

Ander waved a dismissive hand at her before grabbing a dishtowel and using it to open the oven. He bent down to survey its contents but soon closed it again, disappointedly declaring, “It’s still not ready.”

“That’s okay,” Azucena reassured him. “We can start with the salad.”

“But I wanted the rice to be ready as well. The salad is a side dish, Mum,” Ander complained.

He slumped into a chair at the dinner table next to the one his mother was seated on and wiped at his brow in frustration with the edge of the apron draped across his body. Azucena smiled lovingly at her son.

“How much water did you put in?” she asked.

“Omar told me three cups,” Ander muttered. He flapped the fabric of the apron around to reach into his back pocket for his cell phone. “I’m calling him again.”

“What did you use to measure a cup?” his mother enquired patiently.

Ander looked around, raising a finger to point at the large coffee pot sitting on their countertop. “That. I figured it would be about a cup’s worth.”

Azucena’s eyes widened. “Ander, that’s way more than the standard measurement for a cup!”

“ _Ya_. I see that now. The rice is all sticky and wet,” the boy replied dejectedly, activating the dialling pad on his phone. “Still, maybe Omar can help fix...”

Azucena touched his hand to stop him from dialling. She picked up the salad bowl and used a fork to begin decidedly piling leafy greens onto the plate in front of her. The table was set with white linen napkins accented in gold trimming. Shiny silver cutlery was nestled among the napkins and a bottle of red wine stood tall in the centre, right next to a garland of fresh red and white flowers.

“In the meantime, we can just have salad, love. Until the rice and chorizos finish cooking,” Ander’s mother was telling him gently.

Ander sighed. He had a glum expression on his face as his mother served him next.

“Will you stop being so dramatic?” Azucena scolded him lightly. “We’re not going to starve. The water will dry up. It’ll just take a little bit longer than expected.”

“I wanted tonight to be perfect, Mum,” Ander muttered, hanging his head. He picked up his fork and stared at the greens on his plate.

He continued, “You’ve done so much for me in the last few months, put up with me when I was being a stubborn bastard. I just wanted to cook you a nice dinner to say thanks.”

Azucena cleared her throat. When Ander looked back up at her, tears were glistening in her eyes.

“Come on, Mum! Don’t start crying, now. That’s the last thing I need,” he said.

His mother gave a choked little sob and smiled at him. She reached for his hands again, taking them in both of hers. Her eyes filled with love, she regarded him fondly and said, “Ander, I’ll always be by your side. I’ll always support you. You know that.”

Ander gave her a tiny answering smile, nodding quickly with his mouth pressed firmly closed as a sentimental lump formed in his throat. He didn’t trust himself to speak so he silently removed the apron he was wearing and draped it across the empty chair nearby before he speared some leafy vegetables onto the end of his fork.


	2. II. Rebeka

It was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that he was losing sorely to Rebeka in this round. Yet, Ander was determined to make up for his depressing score. Gripping the bowling ball in both hands, he carefully took aim, giving a few experimental swings before releasing it. As he watched expectantly, the ball gathered promising speed but then began veering slightly towards the left, away from its initial pathway down the middle. To his dismay, it ended up knocking over only two pins.

The electronic scoreboard overhead flashed briefly with the dismal addition to his tally and then reverted to showing his score against his partner’s.

Rebeka walked up to him and clapped one hand on his shoulder jokingly asking, “Where’s your tennis arm, eh, _chaval_? Has it really been that long since you used those arm muscles?”

Ander screwed up his face at her and pushed her arm off him good-naturedly before responding, “Oh, I’m just warming up. You’ll see!”

“The game’s almost over,” Rebeka pointed out.

“Best three out of five?” Ander asked hopefully. He put on his best pout with puppy dog eyes.

Rebeka clicked her tongue at him and rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky you’re so cute that I want to give you endless more chances.”

Ander flashed her a open-mouthed grin. He gestured towards the row of bowling balls. “Your turn.”

“Watch how a pro does it,” Rebeka told him.

She sauntered over to pick up a ball and then stepped back in line with the bowling lane. She widened her stance and retracted her arm confidently. When she swung the ball forward, it rolled powerfully down the aisle to connect solidly with the middle pin, causing all the others to tumble in its wake.

Rebeka jumped around excitedly, her arms flailing in the air as she turned to face Ander again, who gave her a mock salute and applauded her efforts. Ander shook his head. Her enthusiasm was really infectious.

“It would appear that your boxing arm is superior to my tennis arm,” the boy commented.

Rebeka rolled the sleeves of her shirt up to bare her biceps proudly. Ander whistled in appreciation, causing the girl to break out into a fresh wave of laughter.

“Lemme see yours, then!” she demanded.

Ander mirrored her movements, shrugging off his school jacket and rucking up his shirt. Then, the two teens stood comparing the size of their arm muscles in the bowling alley. Rebeka was adamant that hers were bigger. Ander teased that, had it not been for the recent chemotherapy sessions, he would have boasted larger guns.

“ _Oye, pero, en serio_... I’m so glad you’re in remission. Omar was worried sick about you.”

Ander gave her a pointed look before asking, “Only Omar was worried? You’ve been pestering me every week since you found about my diagnosis!”

“Yeah well, it would be really selfish if you just up and died. Not cool, man,” Rebeka replied.

She bent down to pick up another bowling ball. When she straightened up again with the ball in hand, Ander stepped in front of her. He put his hand on the ball to prevent the girl from advancing.

Rebeka scoffed. “Stalling tactics aren’t going to help you now, Muñoz.”

“Rebe...” Ander began. His eyes were soft and he was looking directly at her. “I wanted to thank you. For, you know,” he gestured vaguely. “...being there for me and for Omar through all of it.”

“Anytime,” Rebeka told him. She pushed the bowling ball into his hands. “But, like, I really hope we don’t have to collectively go through anything like that ever again.”

“Me, too,” Ander agreed fervently.

“That’s still no excuse for your terrible aim, by the way. That’s the problem. Your technique is fine, it’s your aim that’s off,” Rebeka observed.

Ander shoved her slightly in jest. “My aim is fine!”

“This says otherwise.” Rebeka pointed upwards to where the scoreboard was flashing coloured numbers in their direction. Ander swore loudly and moved determinedly past her, taking aim to swing again.


	3. III. Guzmán

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Ander lowered himself onto a rock that was jutting out of the ground. He removed the heavy backpack from his shoulder. Why had Guzmán insisted he bring all this? So far, there had been no foreseeable need for either the rope, or the machete, or the hunting knife or the matches that were currently stashed in with a fresh change of clothes and the bottles of water that he had been lugging around since 7:00 that morning.

When Guzmán had suggested a day out, Ander’s first reaction had been one of enthusiasm. He had figured that a change in routine would do him good, and when Guzmán had mentioned that he preferred an outdoor trip, Ander had looked forward to being in nature. However, in the present moment, as he sat panting on the rock, his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his chest, Ander was starting to think that he should have insisted on obtaining more details about Guzmán’s planned day in the wilderness. He also ought to have brought the tube of sunscreen along with him to reapply over his exposed face. The heat was blistering. 

“Ey!” Guzmán appeared. He had been walking a few paces ahead and hadn’t acknowledged Ander’s call for them to take a break. Instead, he had soldiered onwards, expecting Ander to catch up with him whenever. However, it had since been ten minutes and Guzmán had had to trek back to look for his friend.

When he found him seated on the rock, he scoffed and told Ander, “Come on, there’s no time for sitting around! I want to arrive at this waterfall. Look, it’s just a little way off.”

Guzmán thrust his cell phone under Ander’s nose, pointing out the pathway that he had been following and indicating the final destination point with his index finger.

“Just give me five more minutes,” Ander said, squinting up at the other boy through the sunlight in his eyes.

Guzmán begrudgingly joined him on the ground, wiping the sweat from his brow. He rummaged through his own knapsack and he produced a small distinctly shaped bottle of water and began drinking thirstily from it. 

Ander stared. He couldn’t help but ask, a little incredulously, “Where did the fuck did you get a _canteen_?”

Guzmán grinned toothily at him and offered him the bottle. As Ander took a swig, he told him, “My dad was big on hunting and he used to take me on his trips sometimes. He would always use this for water.”

Ander nodded, handing the canteen back to his friend. “Okay. Now how long again till we get to this river, or whatever?”

“It says right here... fifteen minutes. But I don’t want to rush you, okay? Take your time. If you feel like you need to rest longer, we can,” responded Guzmán.

A small chuckle bubbled up unexpectedly from Ander’s throat. When Guzmán raised a questioning eyebrow at him, he asked, “When did you become the protective older brother?”

Guzmán laughed along with him. “I’m just saying. I know you might need a little more time. You won’t have the same strength after...what happened...” his words trailed off and he ducked his head, picking at an imaginary thread on his sweatpants. He didn’t want to spoil the moment by bringing up painful memories.

Ander put a hand on Guzmán’s shoulder.

“Guzmán,” Ander called his name. When the other boy looked at him again, he stated, “I’m fine. But thank you for today and for all those days you were at my side in the last few months.”

“ _Para nada_. I already lost one friend, I’m glad I didn’t lose you, too,” Guzmán replied.

“Polo would’ve hated this hike. You know he would have walked for ten minutes, then convinced us to go to a bar and have some drinks, instead,” Ander said.

“You’re right. But you’re not getting away that easily! To the waterfall we go!” Guzmán jumped up, reaching out a hand to help pull Ander to his feet.

Ander accepted his hand without complaint and soon the two boys were continuing their journey.


	4. IV. Nadia

Ander’s phone emitted a little _ding_ , letting him know that he had a message. He unlocked the screen to discover that it was a selfie that Nadia had taken of her face in the mirror of her bathroom. She wasn’t wearing her hijab and her long curls spilled over the sides of her cheeks, framing her face beautifully. He checked the time on his phone and mentally did the Math; it was almost 10:00 p.m. in New York. Ander waited a beat, as he saw that she was typing a message.

_What do you think? How does my hair look?_

He typed quickly in response.

\- _It looks great! I like the shine. Do you mind taking a video for me to see the back?–_

Nadia seemed to decide against sending a video and chose to videocall him instead. As he answered the incoming call, Ander leaned back against the headboard of his and Omar’s bed, getting more comfortable.

“Hi Ander,” Nadia smiled warmly at him through the screen of the phone.

Ander’s own lips curved automatically as he greeted her in return.

“Okay, let me rotate the phone and tell me if you can see the back. I figured it would be easier to do this in real time,” Nadia told him.

With a little help from Ander’s verbal instructions, she was finally able to position the phone in a way that allowed Ander to appreciate the luscious shine of her bouncy curls.

“I told you it was a great product, Nadia! Now you never have to worry about losing definition in your curls again,” Ander told her.

“I can’t thank you enough! I was looking everywhere for it in the supermarkets and pharmacies here, but I haven’t found a place that carries the brand. So, your care package was much appreciated,” Nadia said.

“Well, now you have product for at least another three months. By which time, I hope you are planning to come back home for a visit, and I can take you to my guy here in Madrid,” Ander stated.

“You have “a guy”? Why does this sound like an illegal drug deal, Ander?” Nadia giggled.

“Of course. I know all where all the good stuff can be found,” Ander winked at her playfully, joining in on the joke.

“Seriously, though, you’re a lifesaver. Lu doesn’t have curly hair so she doesn’t understand my struggle,” Nadia complained. “Plus, if she recommends me putting apple cider vinegar into my hair one more time, I will personally find every bottle she keeps stashed away and empty it down the drain. That stuff smells awful and I am not convinced it helps in any way!”

“Think of it as a small token of my appreciation. A thank you for your support through my illness,” Ander’s eyes softened as he looked at Nadia through the phone. “My curls haven’t fully returned yet, so there’s no need for me to keep so many bottles of the stuff lying around. I’m glad it’s working just as well for you.”

“Of course, Ander. Like I told you, we’re family and nothing is more important to me than family,” Nadia said seriously.

She further observed, “Your hair is growing pretty quickly, though. Move the phone so I can see better.”

Ander gave an exaggerated flip of his hair, causing a fresh wave of laughter from Nadia. In that moment, he was truly grateful to have someone like her in his life.


	5. V. Omar

****

From where the two boys were sitting, the view of the city was at once calming and overwhelming. Buildings of all shapes, sizes and colours stretched out as far as the eye could see beneath a sky that was slowly turning pink. It was dizzying to think that the city housed so many residents, each with their own set of worries, hopes, desires and fears.

“The clouds look like waves,” Ander commented lightly.

Omar looked towards the horizon, studying the clouds that Ander had mentioned. Dense concentrated clusters rolled along the expanse of the sky, with light wispy formations interspersed in between.

“Hmm,” Omar assented.

He felt Ander squeeze his hand and he turned his head to meet his boyfriend’s gaze. Backlit by the fading light, Ander’s hair and eyelashes were glowing. A small soft smile played on his lips, which Omar’s mind immediately recognised as the expression Ander gave right before he was about to kiss him.

No sooner had he had this realisation, than Ander was leaning in, closing the short distance between them, and capturing his lips. The kiss was sweet and lingering, infused with pure affection and the need to be more closely connected than by holding hands. Omar titled his head and then his nose was bumping gently against Ander’s as they changed angles and continued to enjoy each other in this way.

Moments later, Ander dropped his head to rest on his boyfriend’s shoulders, curling his entire body inwards to fit against him. He reached again to lace their fingers together, bringing their intertwined hands up to brush his mouth against Omar’s rings. The warm weight and clean scent of Ander so close to him was comforting. Omar used his other hand to absently play with Ander’s soft tresses, marvelling at how quickly his hair had returned.

“Mmmm, I love when you play with my hair,” Ander confessed quietly. “Now that I have hair again.”

Omar stretched his legs out on the floor in front of him. “I think you looked hot with it shaven low. A total bad boy vibe,” Omar told him, twisting his head to the side to look down at Ander.

Ander make a noise through his nose and met Omar’s gaze. “You always think I look hot.”

“Well...,” Omar considered this for a minute. “...yeah, you’re right.”

Ander disentangled their hands to trail his fingers up Omar’s bicep, over his shoulder, across his neck, until he was cupping his boyfriend’s face. The movement caused him to lean further in so that Omar was now supporting almost all of his boyfriend’s body weight. He regarded Ander from close range, bending forward slightly as he anticipated another kiss. Yet, a beat passed and the other boy did nothing but search his eyes. He watched as Ander swallowed before tenderly calling his name, causing Omar to raise his eyebrows questioningly at him.

“You know I love you, right?” Ander said.

“Yeah, I know,” Omar answered. He bowed his head to steal another kiss. Ander let him.

“And that...” Ander sat up straighter, licking his lips quickly, seeming to have more to say.

Omar stretched an arm around him, waiting for his boyfriend to continue. When the words left Ander’s mouth, they were hushed. Had they not been so close to each other, Omar might have missed what was said.

“I would never have made it without you by my side. Thank you.”

With these words, Omar was transported suddenly back into that chair in the clinic, the white walls clouding his vision, listening to the doctor list treatment options whilst Ander’s hand felt clammy and lifeless in his own. It had been a rough time for them both, and Omar remembered all the tears he had shed in fear and helplessness against the enormity of such a diagnosis.

When he opened his mouth to speak, however, Omar replied confidently and without hesitation.

“Yes, you would have. You’re one of the strongest people I know, babe.”

Ander smiled at him, just a tug at the corner of his lips, and he looked younger and more vulnerable than Omar had ever recalled seeing him. He pulled him into a long hug.

No other words were necessary. There, against the tendrils of purple that were creeping into the evening sky, the two boys remained quietly in each other’s embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining me on my latest written exploration of the world of Omar and Ander.


End file.
